


Broken Geodes

by filenotch



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Early Work, F/M, M/M, Multi, Recovered Memories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-23
Updated: 2014-11-23
Packaged: 2018-02-26 18:17:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2661722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/filenotch/pseuds/filenotch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Tom Paris  unknowingly takes B'Elanna's memories as his own, he re-interprets his relationships with everyone on board, especially Chakotay. But how did he get her memories? And what if he can link with anyone else?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bright Facets

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter 1 takes place after the Season 4 episode "One", and Chapter 2 takes place after "Hope and Fear". Chapter 3 is not tied to canon. Originally published in 1998.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The difference between false memories and true ones is the same as for jewels: it is always the false ones that look the most real, the most brilliant."  
> Salvador Dali

****

**Personal log, Kathryn Janeway:**

On a ship the size of Voyager, the rumor tree is swift and relentless.  
Between the routine tedium and crisis situations it has been the chief  
entertainment. Captains are not usually 'in the loop' -- they depend on their  
senior staff to pass on scuttlebutt. In Federation space there are backloops  
through other ships and personnel, but here I don't have that back door.  
Like all leaders, I am at the mercy of what people choose to tell me.

Still, in the first two years even I heard enough to know that Lt. Paris was  
a frequent target of discussion. The skeletons of the who, what, and whens  
of his affairs usually reached my ears not long after the fact. I needed to  
know which crew member to keep off his shift. Usually a first officer  
handles such things, but Chakotay was somewhat... blind?... about Mr. Paris.

I don't really remember when the rumors stopped, when our pilot's affairs  
ceased to cause problems. It happened quite a while before he and B'Elanna  
paired off. In fact, I only realized how long it had been when I heard about  
those two. Tuvok told me. He was 'concerned about their ability to focus in  
a crisis.' I noted his concerns, but they've mostly been unwarranted.

I was happy for them. I *am* happy for them, but after my talk with the  
Doctor today, I'm concerned.

The trip through the nebula in stasis affected everyone differently. I  
dreamed of my dog, of playing with the puppies I never got to see. Others  
spoke of nightmares. Most everyone has mentioned their dreams, with a few  
notable exceptions: Chakotay, B'Elanna, and Tom. Chakotay probably used his  
time for some intense vision quest. I'd hate to think what B'Elanna dreams.  
Tom's the one who has me worried.

Seven of Nine told her crewmates that Tom had escaped from his stasis chamber  
five times. The doctor told me what she had, with surprising discretion,  
kept to herself: The last four of those five times she had found him  
collapsed over Chakotay's chamber across the room. Since the nebula, Tom's  
been quiet, withdrawn.Even B'Elanna seems concerned about him, and Tuvok  
has mentioned a 'marked decrease in the lieutenant's efficiency'. People are  
beginning to notice his weight loss. I've put him on beta shift, so he  
doesn't overlap Chakotay, but no help. It's time to send him to the Doctor.

*

****

**Personal log, Tom Paris:**

When the captain told me to report to sick bay, I had no idea she intended to  
ambush me. Gently, and (thank heavens) privately she expressed her concern  
that I had suffered some ill-effect of the nebula. Would I please report to  
sick bay for a complete physical. Now. Maybe B'Elanna told her I'm not  
sleeping.

I've had enough med training by now to know what the Doctor is doing. Today  
he was overdoing. He checked me thoroughly -- full biobed, read-the-DNA  
check up. He kept making that "Hmmm" noise.

Finally he said, "Well, Mr. Paris, other than some weight loss and a slight  
dopamine and serotonin imbalance, you're fine. No strange mutations, no  
lingering effects from the nebula. You're healthy, but you're clearly  
unhappy. Ordinarily I'd send you to the ship's counselor, but I have reason  
to believe our acting counselor is the source of your problem.

I sat stunned. All I could stammer was, "What?" What did he know, how could  
he know? I insisted he was wrong, I'd be fine, it was just lingering  
claustrophobia. He let me sputter a bit before he held up his hand.

"Mr. Paris, what did you dream about in stasis?"

What did that have to do with anything?

"Please," he said. "Tell me."

I looked at the floor. I could feel my ears burn as I flushed at the memory.

"You don't have to tell me, exactly, but I assume it had to do with Commander  
Chakotay. Seven found you collapsed over his stasis chamber after most of  
your little escapes. Do you know you had to walk past Lt. Torres and away  
from the door to get there?" The Doctor sighed and put aside his  
instruments. "If I didn't know better, I'd almost say you were love-sick, Mr.  
Paris.

It was a silly turn of phrase, coming from him. But I could only look at the  
floor and blush at the memory of my dreams. "I'll be fine."

"So you agree with my analysis. Good." He busied himself preparing a hypo  
spray, then held it before me. "Antidepressants and an appetite stimulant,"  
he announced. I leaned my head over and heard the spray release at my neck.  
"That will help your physical symptoms and help you eat.

I thanked him and stood up, but he wasn't quite finished. "I'll be sending my  
report to the captain. It will be a complete report, Mr. Paris, " he added.

That did it, I was angry. "Look," I told him, "you've decided I've got a  
thing for Chakotay. Fine. If it's true, I'll deal with it. Why tell the  
captain?"

"Because she already knows. She wants you to talk with her."

My stomach sank. So much for privacy.

I left sickbay and walked to my quarters. The Doctor's cocktail was working,  
but my stomach warred between hunger and that horrible pit feeling. One  
thing about a lack of appetite was I had a lot of replicator credits saved  
up. Soup. I ate soup and bread in my quarters. When it was finished I put  
the dishes in the reclamation unit and sat down to think.

First I thought about B'Elanna. Even to think about her made my chest get  
tight. She's wonderful.

But I hadn't dreamed about her. I'd dreamed about Chakotay, about his strong  
hands, his face. B'Elanna's opposite. Solid and calm. Great stars, I love them  
both.

Why did the captain care? That's what I needed to know. Or maybe she could  
tell there was something *she* needed to know.

I'm going to see her.

*

****

**Personal log, Kathryn Janeway:**

Normally I'm not interested in the personal affairs of my crew. I care that  
they're well and happy, but the gossipy details matter only when it affects performance.  
The Doctor's report on Mr. Paris would not have concerned me greatly on any  
other ship or with most other members of this crew. Tom was finally in a  
stable relationship, seemed happy, until he nearly killed himself four times  
trying to get to my first officer. Whatever it was about the commander, it  
was slowly tearing Tom to pieces.

He came to see my in my ready room a few hours after I'd read the Doctor's  
report. He seemed nervous, so I offered him tea.

He thanked me and stood next to the couch, staring out the window while I  
went to the replicator. I brought him his tea and we stood quietly for  
several moments, just watching the stars. I was thinking about how he once  
told me that stars didn't remind him of jewels, like most people said. It  
was jewelry that reminded him of stars.

Finally he spoke. "I know you're concerned, Captain, but it'll be all right."

"What is it?" I asked him. "I really don't understand what's upset you since  
the nebula."

"History," he sighed. "There's some history here."

I told him I would like to hear it, but I wasn't so sure. I hate these  
details. Still, whatever was affecting my chief pilot, I had to know.

"When I got kicked out of Starfleet, what killed my was flying. There was  
nothing to fly. It's such a cliché; I got high to deal with it. You've heard  
the stories about me -- drunk, no good."

I insisted that had changed.

"It has, I guess. Anyway, my only interest in the Maquis was that they had  
ships and needed pilots.

"It took a while to contact a Maquis cell. They like real dedication, not  
mercenaries. I picked a bar near the border and told the sad story of my  
ejection from Starfleet to anyone who would listen. Naive, I guess. I had  
just a little money. I flirted for drinks, but never really hustled. I got  
by for a week or three this way, waiting. I'd size up the people coming in  
for whether they had ships or would buy drinks. For a while all I did was  
drink.

"Then he walked in, and he was different. He was looking for me, I could  
tell, so I let him make eye contact and turned away. I didn't even look up  
when he sat down next to me. He bought me a drink without even asking. He  
even knew my usual. I got my hopes up that this was a man who needed a  
pilot. I turned to look at him.

"He was so beautiful. I love beauty, whoever's wearing it. He stunned me.  
There was nothing to do but smile at him.

"I picked up my drink. I was just high enough to be cocky. I raised my  
glass to him and something like, 'To the most breathtaking sight since my  
first Galaxy class ship.'

"'That's the nicest thing you've said to anyone in three weeks,' he answered.  
I wondered how he knew. 'I've been hearing about you. You groan about  
missing space and act like a hustler, but you never go home with anyone.  
They said. "They" say a lot of things. I thought I'd see for myself.'

"I asked whether he was looking for a pilot or a bed-mate.

"'Let's see if you can fly, first.'

"Suddenly I didn't want to drink anymore. I didn't care if he was Maquis or  
no. My weeks waiting and posing were done. How do you explain it?  
I'd have gone with him anywhere --a Klingon painfest, even. Anywhere I  
could be with him, find out who he was."

Tom paused and turned from the stars to look at me.

"We had four incredible days, Captain. He was everything I wasn't. He had  
everything I lost from being kicked out of Starfleet -- dedication, purpose,  
and a focus I had never known. By the time we rejoined his cell, I  
thought we'd be together forever." He turned back to the window. "Romantic  
foolishness."

My brain was suddenly re-interpreting their first meeting, the relationship  
between these two men. I asked Tom what happened.

"Me. As soon as we got around other people I turned back into the jerk.  
Defensive. Too cool for real emotion. No one knew -- he was as private then  
as he is now. I closed up, though. I turned cocky and remote. If I cared,  
you see, I could be hurt. So to prove I was my own person I started flirting  
around. When he challenged me...I don't know. I said something idiotic like  
'You got what you wanted, so did I. We're all just playing around.'

"That's when he told me he never played, that love was never 'just' anything.

"He never spoke to me again, except for direct orders. He transferred me  
over to another cell before I could really fly for him. You know what  
happened -- I got caught, and Ceska got Chakotay. Disaster for both of us."

Tom stepped away from me and put down his cup. I just looked at him. There  
was nothing to be said. He sighed and rubbed his eyes with one hand.

"When the crews combined on Voyager, and I could see how much he hated me,  
all I wanted to do was hurt him. I didn't realize how much I regretted what  
I'd done. All the womanizing, the reputation -- it was all just to get to  
him, I guess. It got boring. I got tired of trying to get his attention,  
tired of empty relationships. You know what's happened, Captain. You helped  
me grow up."

I shook my head. This was one bit of gossip no one had told me. The story  
explained certain dynamics, but what bothered my was : Why now? When he was  
settled with B'Elanna, how could this old affair cause him so much pain?

"It's hard to explain. B'Elanna is like fire, and Chakotay is like water. As  
much as I love her, I want him, too. I wanted…" he trailed off and looked out the window.

Suddenly I felt very tired. I did not want to deal with this. Sure, it  
explained some interactions from years ago, but hadn't they moved beyond that?  
Why couldn't they deal with it now? I didn't ask him that. I put my hand on  
his shoulder and said, "I'm sorry."

"So am I, Captain. I'm really happy with B'Elanna. Maybe these dreams will  
fade and the Doctor's hypo spray will put me back on my feet. It's just,  
well, since I've let myself be more real, I've had to face how I feel about  
him."

He took my hand off his shoulder and gave it a squeeze. "It helps to talk.  
Thank you. It'll be fine."

He left my ready room with a strange expression on his face. I hoped it truly  
would be 'fine'.

*

****

**Personal log, B'Elanna Torres:**

We've been out of the nebula for three weeks, and Tom's been out of his funk  
for three days. For weeks he hadn't really eaten or slept, and what ever was  
bugging him, he wouldn't tell me. All he would say was, "I really don't like  
stasis chambers." I've been good about not pressing him. At least I've  
learned that people aren't machines, that you can't just re-align a phase  
modulator and fix the problem.

Or maybe you can. His trip to the Doctor seems to have helped. He's gone  
from barely eating to second helpings of Nelix's food. At night he's gone  
from wanting just to sleep (which he couldn't seem to do) to wanting to make  
love. But that's where he's still different.

Sure he's eating and smiling again, but when we make love he's so intent on  
everything. He spends time just exploring me, looking at me. It's nice to  
feel worshipped, but it's a little weird. It's as if he's trying to memorize  
me. For once I'd like some of the old playful Paris.

This morning at breakfast he talked with me about the early days of our two  
crews joining. I hadn't known him in the Maquis, and stayed away from him a  
little on Voyager because of the things I'd heard. Anyway, he was trying to  
tell me something, but I couldn't figure out what. He kept talking about  
what a jerk he'd been, how he was glad he wasn't like that anymore.

I told him not to flatter himself.

He looked hurt, and I kind of regretted my joke. But he'd been moping for  
weeks and wouldn't tell me. Now the doctor fixed him up, and he seemed okay,  
but he still wouldn't tell me. I gave him grief, and told him I'd been  
patient.

"That's because you've been fixing the problems the nebula caused in our  
systems." It was typical Paris deflection.

I told him it wasn't that bad, that I'd given him space, but that he was a  
jerk for not letting me help him. Or was I the problem?

"Oh, B'Elanna. No," he said. He had a scared look for a moment, then  
reached for my hand with that intent face.

I didn't know what to say. I didn't want to make whatever it was worse. I  
had things to talk to him about, but they had to wait until I knew what was  
up with him.

He's still on beta shift, so by the time we could talk again, we'd both be  
exhausted. I told him I had to go, but before I left, I leaned over and told  
him he was my favorite jerk. Just please, would he talk to me soon. I hope  
he does.

*

****

**Personal log, Tom Paris**

I expected more of a fight from B'Elanna -- some ultimatum like, "'Fess up,  
flyboy, or I'll read Klingon poetry at you." I didn't expect quiet concern  
or patience. Patience! Maybe she's figured out you can't run a  
diagnostic on a relationship.

I felt better, thanks to the Doctor. He took me off the antidepressants  
after a week, and my appetite seemed to hold up. I made jokes about  
lingering claustrophobia to avoid questions. I didn't want to answer  
questions. I wanted to ask them.

There was only one person to ask, so I made an appointment with Chakotay in  
his guise as acting counselor. He seemed a little surprised at the request.

At 1400 hours, before my shift but in the middle of his, I walked into his  
office. I was scared, nervous, expecting recrimination from him, I guess.  
We'd never talked about what happened. I didn't know what I wanted, but I  
felt like getting my feelings out in the open. Stupid that way.

The captain had implied that I should let sleeping dogs lie, and she was  
right. I ended up more confused that ever. Here's what happened.

He sat down with that _I'm a compassionate person, but I'm maintaining  
professional distance, while still appearing compassionate_ look, and asked  
what he could do for me.

I asked him whether he remembered me joining the Maquis.

He nodded. "As I recall, you posed yourself in a bar and practically put a  
holosign over your head saying 'Pilot looking for Maquis'. I had you checked  
out before I made contact. Your reputation for skill made me overlook your,  
uh, personal reputation. You were too rebellious to work with real rebels.  
It's too bad. If you'd had the maturity then that you have now..."

He trailed off, so I finished his sentence. "If I'd had any sense, I wouldn't  
have let you go."

"Excuse me, Lieutenant?"

His tone caught me short.

"What are you talking about?" he asked.

I felt like an idiot. "Um, four days in a shuttle craft on our way to your  
Maquis cell?"

"Four days where I recall I couldn't get you away from the controls. We  
discussed the ships available, and agreed you'd do best in another cell. I  
had to keep asking you not to hum while I meditated." He looked at me.  
"What do you remember?'

I blushed. I must have matched my uniform. "Don't you remember telling me  
later that you never played, that you couldn't separate sex and love?" He  
just looked at me. "Chakotay, how can you sit there and say it didn't  
happen? How else would I know that you loved it when I bit your lower back?  
How you made me feel?" I couldn't continue. The expression on his face had  
lost its composure, and he was as pale as he could be.

I was in a state, locking my chest against the emotion and desire. I wanted so  
badly to kiss him. I don't remember moving, but I found myself standing next  
to him, reaching for his face. He jerked away, and when I realized what I  
was doing, I backed off.

When he finally spoke, his voice was tight. "There are only two people on  
this ship who could say something like that to me. You are not one of them."  
He carefully relaxed his face. "Something may have happened to you in the  
nebula, like it did to Seven. You were exposed to the effect in your  
escapes. I suggest you visit the Doctor again."

"You're telling me it never happened?"

"Not in my memory, Mr. Paris. You have two hours before your shift begins. I  
suggest you use them in Sick Bay. Dismissed."

That was it. I looked at him with my heart pounding -- shaking, yet numb.  
And I *was* dismissed. He was reading a report on his PADD before I even got  
up to leave.

*

****

**Personal log, B'Elanna Torres:**

Tom usually comes by my quarters after beta shift. We've been on this  
routine where I work alpha and he works beta, but we sleep at the same time.  
He gets up early and I go to bed late. The last few nights he's been a no  
show. I haven't seen him at breakfast, either. He doesn't come by at shift  
change. I needed to talk to him, and he was making himself scarce.

Captain Janeway at least gave us the same day off when she moved Tom to beta  
shift. That was today. I reserved holodeck time for one of his hiking  
programs and invited him to join me.

All I got was a short, "No, thanks."

I went to his quarters. I knew he was in there. He didn't let me in until I  
threatened to start describing his underwear at the top of my lungs.

His door opened and I walked in. He was dressed in civvies, barefoot. I told  
him to get his boots on to go hiking.

It was the strangest thing. He just looked at me and ... obeyed. That's the  
only word for it. We walked to the holodeck in silence. I initiated program  
paris22, terrain level 3. It's not serious climbing, but a workout if you  
move quickly. When the doors opened, I stepped in, and had to reach back for  
Tom. He didn't just follow me in.

We hiked for maybe an hour, and at the top of a hill with a great view, I  
stopped. We had hardly said anything, and it was time.

I asked him, "Where you been, flyboy?"

He sighed and pulled at the grass. "Around, warp woman," he added with a hint  
of a smile.

Would he tell me what was going on?

"B'Elanna," he said, "have you ever had a memory that turned out not to be  
real?"

What did he mean by that?

"I remember something, dreamed about it all the way through the nebula, and  
when I went to talk to him --" Tom broke off, looked away and swallowed so  
hard I could hear it. "He said it never happened?"

What? Who?

"I don't know how to tell you this. I love you, I do, and you'll think I  
don't, when you know."

Know what?!

"About me and Chakotay. Or at least what I thought I knew about me and  
Chakotay."

I couldn't answer. I remember thinking that of all the things I had in common  
with Tom, I'd never dreamed Chakotay would be one of them. I asked if that's  
where he'd been. I guess my voice was a little bitter.

"No, B'Elanna. No! The only time I've talked to him in a month was to  
ask him if he remembered what happened nearly 8 years ago. He denied it."  
Tom looked stricken, and I realized he hadn't been sleeping again.

I told him to start from the beginning. What happened in the nebula?

So he told me. He told me about Seven finding him at Chakotay's stasis  
chamber first. Then he told me he'd been dreaming about him in vivid, sexual  
dreams. He told me about four days in a shuttle craft, a tense breakup, his  
regrets.

My skin was cold. I could tell my face was pale and my breath short. We'd  
been sitting a few feet apart, side by side with Tom talking toward the  
holodeck's horizon. He must have paused to look at me.

"B'Elanna, you must be furious." I held up a hand and shook my head,  
trying to swallow. Something told me Chakotay didn't have this affair with  
all his new Maquis recruits. When I found my voice I asked him whether he  
surprised Chakotay by biting him on the back? Did he kiss you above the eye,  
and trace something like his tattoo with his tongue? Did you fall so hard you  
thought you would break, but as soon as you weren't alone with him your  
defenses went up like shields?

"How did you know all this? I've never told anyone."

"Neither have I," I said.

We just looked at each other, a little angry and feeling very, very strange.

So I took a deep breath and told Tom that I'd had all the same dreams,  
remembering *my* affair with Chakotay. I told him how I'd wanted to talk with  
him about how I felt, about how much I loved him, but how different Chakotay  
was. We compared notes on how he made love, how just his looks could change  
your mood. It made us feel closer, somehow, to talk about it.

It was all too weird.

Finally I said, "I think you dreamed my dreams."

"But B'Elanna, it explains my behavior when he first got on board, the weird  
animosity, my womanizing."

I cut him off by reminding him that the Maquis had considered him a traitor,  
and that he'd just gotten out of prison.

He just closed his eyes. "Then why do I feel this way about him?"

This really was too weird. I took him to the Doctor.

*

****

**EMH log:**

This was the third time Lt. Paris had come to me for what seemed a mere  
emotional complaint. I was ready to dismiss him, when the look on Lt. Torres  
face gave me pause. When the full situation was explained I asked Mr. Paris  
whether he had ever had any telepathic experiences before. He said there were  
none. I then asked whether there was a Betazoid grandparent I should know  
about, since I felt I could safely rule out any Vulcan heritage. Again, a  
negative response.

I can only assume that his several mutations during our voyage left him  
vulnerable to something in the nebula's effect. Seven of Nine had potent  
hallucinations. Lt. Paris may have had . . .guided hallucinations based on  
Lt. Torres' dreams. I can only suppose that the emotional bond between them  
predisposed Mr. Paris to link with her.

Of course, this is sheer speculation on my part. The stasis chambers were  
only designed to monitor vital life signs, and no crew member was given more  
than a cursory examination upon exiting the nebula. The data to confirm my  
hypothesis do not exist.

The facts of the matter were confirmed by Commander Chakotay over a secure  
comm link. He again denied any sexual relationship with Lt. Paris and  
affirmed B'Elanna's memories of their brief encounter.

These events have given me a curiosity for the medical logs, but since it is  
now merely an emotional issue, it is not subject to my purview.  
Unfortunately, Lt. Paris will not allow me to try to recreate the conditions  
which led to the telepathic experience.

*

****

**Personal log, Chakotay:**

I regret the lack of a trained counselor. In most cases I do all right, but  
this one was beyond me. Even if I weren't in the middle of it. I couldn't  
sleep tonight for thinking about it. Eventually I went to the only person who  
might be able to help.

Sometime during gamma shift, it was. I stood in sick bay, debating with  
myself until I couldn't stand it. I activated the EMH. He appeared with his  
usual, "Please state the nature -- oh. What can I do for you, Commander?"

I told him that I needed his input, his access to the psychology literature.  
I needed to understand what happened to Mr. Paris. I recorded our  
conversation for the log.

"In the late 20th century to mid 21st, there was in ingrained hysteria, if  
you will, in the counseling community about so-called recovered memories.  
The scientific community was only beginning to understand the mechanisms of  
learning in the brain. The psychologists of the time were relatively  
divorced from biomedical science. They still believed in notions such as  
that we only use ten percent of our brains, or that everything we've ever  
experienced is stored somewhere in memory. The psychology of the time only  
truly merged with neuroscience in the late 21st century, and such myths were  
discredited."

"Your point, Doctor."

"As I was saying, the barbaric 'counseling' of the time was often predicated  
on the supposition that problems were caused through repressed memories of  
abuse."

"But they weren't entirely wrong."

"No, but do you remember Seven of Nine's 'recovered memory'? It led me to  
search the databases more carefully. I was much at fault in that incident.  
Controlled experiments in the 20th and 21st centuries showed that subtle cues  
from therapists could encourage patients in constructing narratives of abuse  
that had not actually occurred. These experiments had to be stopped when it  
became clear that even if the story of abuse was not factually real, the  
patients' new 'memories' were as traumatic as a real event. 

"There was a huge ethical dilemma. In many cases, therapy initiated for more  
minor problems had actually caused serious emotional damage."

"Are you telling me that what Tom is feeling is real?"

"Mr. Chakotay, when you embark on one of your so-called vision quests, the  
experience is subjectively real, is it not?"

"Yes, and it helps me interpret things in my waking life."

"Exactly. Mr. Paris has had an intense experience, and he has re-interpreted  
many of his other memories in the light of a 'remembered' affair with you."

I sat down in one of the chairs. This was not a burden I wanted. Then the  
ridiculousness of the situation struck me, and I looked up at the Doctor.  
"Not everyone would complain, with two beautiful, brilliant lieutenants thinking they're  
in love with them."

"You forgot 'difficult', commander. 'Beautiful, brilliant, and difficult.'"

I smiled. He was right about that.

"Commander Chakotay, you counsel others, but who counsels you?"

I told him I had my spirit animal and my ancestors to guide me. But I didn't  
know about Tom and B'Elanna. Tom's feelings were due to suddenly having  
B'Elanna's memories of our affair. Were B'Elanna's feelings so strong?

I suppose I should talk with them, apologize to Tom for the way I acted when  
he first tried to tell me.

I told B'Elanna I couldn't separate sex and love, and I do still love her.  
And Tom, when he talked about the two of us making love, it . . . affected  
me. I feel like someone's handed me a package, and I don't know whether it's  
a nice gift or a phaser on overload.


	2. Rough Edges

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "In the beginning there was nothing, and then even that exploded."

**Personal log, Chakotay:**

It's been a hell of a few weeks.

First there was the chance of a fast trip home and the revelation of the  
deception. The whole incident left us a few more years closer to home, but  
with no hope of help from Starfleet, no hope of seeing the alpha quadrant  
before we're too old to care. As acting counselor, I had a lot of work to  
do. It's winding down, now.

I found myself sitting with no appointments, my mind finally beginning to slow  
down, and I remember thinking, "Where was I?" Tonight I did what I've been  
counseling others to do -- review my last log entry before the Dauntless.

I made that entry the morning I found Kathryn in the mess hall, the day our  
tourist came aboard. I chided her for not sleeping, but I'd been up all  
night, too. I was happy and apprehensive all at once. I'd spent the whole  
night trying to figure out how to talk to B'Elanna alone, how to apologize to  
Tom. How, maybe, to become a bigger part of their lives.

Now all I can do is look at that log entry and wonder how I could be so  
foolish. I brushed off the Doctor's concern by playing the spiritually secure  
Indian. Spirit animals and ancestors are the last thing I want now. "A nice  
present, or a phaser on overload," I said. I think the best thing is not to  
open the box.

*

**Personal log, B'Elanna Torres**

We haven't talked about Chakotay. We were so distracted by the Dauntless,  
and I've been so busy wondering whether I could get another shot with that  
quantum slipstream drive on Voyager. I don't think I can, so we're back to  
the long way home. Anyway.

I heard some of the engineering staff say that Chakotay advised them to review  
their personal logs so they could get back into their routine. So I did. So  
now I'm thinking about Chakotay again.

The night after we went to the Doctor, Tom took me back to his quarters to  
talk.

"He was so cold, B'Elanna. And you heard his tone on the comm link. It's just,"  
he started. "We've finally become friends these last couple of years, and I  
blew it."

I told him he'd just surprised him.

"Shocked is more like it. Appalled, disgusted -- I can think of a lot of good  
words for it."

I told him I wanted to talk to Chakotay, and he asked why. I said that I  
wondered if there was a place for him with us, that he was lonely, and I  
thought he still felt something for me.

"You're crazy, B'Elanna. You didn't see the way he looked at me."

I reminded Tom that he knew what I felt, that he remembered what I remembered.

"I know, and I know that what you -- we -- feel about him doesn't change how  
we feel about each other." Tom sighed and turned toward me. His hand  
touched my cheek. "When I reached for him, he jerked away . We may love  
him, but I don't think he loves _us_. Not me, anyway. He said only two  
people on board had been his lovers." He smiled at me. "What do you bet the  
other one's Captain Janeway?"

I could tell he was trying to change the subject. I shut him up with I  
kiss. I knew nothing like that had happened on New Earth.

Anyway.

The way Chakotay rejected Tom hurt him pretty badly. He's been better,  
though. The excitement of the Dauntless was such a break that the whole  
subject of Chakotay just got dropped. Tom seems happier, so I guess I'll let  
it stay dropped. I miss the deep passion Chakotay carries, but I wouldn't  
trade Tom for him. But I want something more. I want them both.

Boy do I sound like the big, bad, insatiable warrior woman! Get a hold of  
yourself.

But I wonder what might have happened.

*

**Personal log, Tom Paris:**

It's pretty amazing, really. Everyone who knows -- B'Elanna, the Doctor,  
the Captain, and especially Chakotay -- seems to expect it all to return to  
normal. Everybody was jerked around emotionally by the Dauntless, and the  
advice I hear Chakotay giving is, "Pick up where you left off."

So here I am, not quite where I left off. I hurt a little less, I eat okay,  
and I still have B'Elanna. She's the most amazing woman in the quadrant, and  
that's all I want. I will tell myself that until I believe it.

*

**Personal log, Seven of Nine:**

I have just returned from a routine mission to the fourth planet of system  
87593 for the purpose of gathering supplies. Compatible biomass was found in  
ample quantity, as well as a deposit of selenium, a supplement necessary for  
the proper function of the bioneural gel packs.

On our return, an ion storm in the upper atmosphere made navigation  
difficult. One particular bout of turbulence was sufficiently violent to  
disrupt the automatic stabilizers, and the resultant motion of the shuttle  
caused a disruption between the helm and main thrusters. With a smooth  
efficiency, Commander Chakotay and Lieutenant Paris worked together to clear  
us from the planet's atmosphere. Once in space the repair was minor and  
trivial to effect. We continued on our way back to Voyager.

The Doctor has advised me to note my observations of the apparent emotional  
and motivational states of the crew members around me, so that I may better  
understand human interactions. This simple mission afforded many  
opportunities to do so.

On the trip to the planet, there was little conversation. Neelix made more  
than his usual irrelevant comments and attempts at humor. If I am to develop  
a sense (as the Doctor calls it) of humor, I may need better examples. But I  
digress.

Another human might know what to label the behavior of my other shipmates,  
but I would call it unusually inefficient. During the flight down, Mr.  
Chakotay and Mr. Paris barely spoke, even when it might have been necessary.  
Neelix' attempts to force conversation only deepened their silence.

On the planet's surface, Chakotay assigned me to work with Mr. Paris. I took  
the opportunity to increase my knowledge of his motivations for certain  
behaviors. When I asked why he had been unusually quiet, he attempted to  
deflect my questions by denying that anything was different. I pointed out  
that I could catalogue for him his habitual behavior, and that today's flight  
was out of the ordinary. He dismissed my observations by saying that some  
days he didn't feel like talking, that it was 'nothing special'.

I did not pursue this fruitless inquiry, but would like to note that with  
some humans an insistence that nothing is wrong my be an indicator of more  
serious emotional upset. It is frustrating to try to understand these  
nuances of saying the opposite of what you mean.

The minor crisis in the ion storm was also instructional. Despite their  
previous tendency to remain uncommunicative, the commander and the lieutenan  
worked together to clear the atmosphere with impressive efficiency. The  
incident seemed to ease the conflict, and the contrast between the trip down  
and the trip back is notable. Irrelevant conversation returned to normal  
levels. Commander Chakotay even made physical contact with Lt. Paris once the  
shuttle was back aboard.

I am forwarding this log to the EMH, to ask him to explain the emotions  
underlying my observations. End log.

*

**Personal log, Chakotay.**

I still haven't been to the Akoonah. I'll use my logs the way others do, and  
try to figure out my feelings by talking them out. Most of my duties as  
acting counselor seem to be just encouraging others to verbalize what they  
feel. So I guess I'll use my log to counsel myself. So. Well.

/pause/

Usually I start sessions with a question. Here goes.

Well, Chakotay, what's bothering you?

I'm not going home. I have to make a life here.

That's true. Where do you start?

I want a family. I've wanted one for years. I mean, this whole ship is a  
family, but I want a bond-mate, children.

With who?

That's the question, isn't it? You can't just decided you want a mate, and  
then pick someone out. That kind of love has to grow. If Kathryn and I had  
stayed on New Earth even another month, we'd be together. I held that door  
open for her, even after we got back, but she won't step through. I've never  
let anyone else on board get that close, not even --

/pause/

Damn. B'Elanna is that close to me. In those few days together something  
lasting formed between us. I guess that's why we stayed good friends, even  
after she turned away from me. I can't believe I thought about using what  
happened to Tom to . . . to what? Tom doesn't want anything to do with me  
anymore. Yesterday's shuttle mission made that clear.

Kathryn called him up off shift. She knew the atmosphere would be  
challenging. It was so tense on the trip down, but on the way back, when we  
got hit in the storm, we worked together like I could _feel_ what he needed  
me to do. It was like we used to work before the nebula, maybe better. The  
rest of the trip back to Voyager was much more relaxed, and once on the  
ground, I gave him a squeeze on the shoulder, like I might have done before.  
I was hoping we at least had our friendship back.

But he went tense under my hand. Oh, he still smiled at me, but he did *not*  
want me to touch him. I didn't want to let him go.

Damn. This is not working. I have to brave the Akoonah.

*

**Personal log, Tom Paris**

Why did he have to touch me? I had to steel myself not to lean into him. I  
was fine until he touched me. These memories are not even *mine*. I need to  
control them. I need help. The only person besides Chakotay with that kind  
of control is Tuvok.

I can see his face already. That man can make you feel his eyes roll  
without moving a muscle. Another human coming to fail at Vulcan meditation!  
Still, he may be willing. It may even help.

*

**Personal log, Tuvok**

Many members of this crew, and indeed on other ships, have come to me for  
instruction in Vulcan meditation techniques. Although full attainment comes  
only to those who dedicate years to the study, I have observed some benefit  
to those who approach it with any constancy. I have been a willing teacher,  
and appreciate the logic of sharing Vulcan culture with the unruly minds of  
humans.

Some minds are more unruly that others. When Mr. Paris approached me, I  
found myself suppressing astonishment. We made an appointment for the  
following day. He arrived at my quarters three minutes late, and excused  
himself by saying he had become wrapped up in his 'homework'. It seems he  
had been studying the database descriptions of the techniques.

We seated ourselves before the lamp, and I began to speak, giving the  
instructions and comments I have found to be effective in initial sessions.  
Mr. Paris began finishing my sentences. I pause. He was clearly agitated.

"Tuvok, I've read all that. Can we just get to it?"

"In order to 'get to it', Mr. Paris, one must learn to be calm, open, and  
accepting." I waited a moment. "If you could simply learn it from reading,  
you would not be here."

Our eyes locked for a few moments, and I felt a sense of clear communication  
with him. He calmed himself, and the body tension relaxed. I began the  
litany, and with an unusual swiftness, Mr. Paris achieved the first level. I  
let him remain there, staring at the flame for approximately twenty three  
minutes, then began to speak the words describing the second level. I  
envisioned that state in my mind. He closed his eyes, and appeared to reach  
the edge of the open center by the fifth repetition. I was surprised.

After thirty three minutes his eyes opened suddenly. I asked whether he was  
all right.

"What happened?"

I answered that he seemed to find the techniques quite suitable, and had been  
in a deep meditative state. I asked if had any experience with such things  
before. He equated the meditation to the kind of concentration he invoked  
during difficult flight situations. It was an apt comparison. Still, the  
session was unusual, and I observed Mr. Paris closely.

"What?" he asked.

"You seem much calmer on the surface," I told him, "but you have a deep  
tension indicated by the posture of certain muscle groups. Did you perhaps  
come away from the open center too quickly? It can be . . . disconcerting."

His eyes looked down and left. He turned his head in that direction and  
touched his fingers to his forehead. "I, uh, jumped out pretty fast."

When I asked why, he said, "It seemed finished." This response was puzzling.  
At the edge of the open center, the meditator sees both his thoughts and the  
open space of the mind which is not thought. Most Vulcans visualize this as  
a desert shifted constantly by the wind. Most humans see an ocean. I asked  
what he had experienced.

"I was at the edge of a blackness. I could see my thoughts behind and  
beneath me like lights, the way you described it. I moved into the darkness  
and found a desert, like a 20th century western holonovel. There was  
sagebrush, cactus, a mesa in the distance." He paused. "Someone else was  
there."

I inquired who he had seen. "That's in my mind, Tuvok. I think I'll keep it  
to myself. Let's just say I had an interesting time."

"Vulcan meditation is not supposed to be 'interesting'," I said. "It is  
intended to help the meditator understand the center, in order to control the  
surface.

Mr. Paris stretched his muscles. "Oh it was helpful. I'm just surprised that  
my center was like the Ancient West."

He stood up and thanked me. It was not until after he left that I realized  
he had made the appropriate ritual bow. It was not a gesture he could have  
learned from a database.

* 

**Personal log, B'Elanna Torres**

Tom Paris is the *most* annoying man in two quadrants!

/pause/

End log.

*

**Personal log, B'Elanna Torres.**

I don't know what's going on . Just when it seemed it was okay, Tom goes off  
and decides to become a Vulcan. Or something.

I can't believe this. Yesterday he said he went to one meditation session  
with Tuvok, and now he's fine?!

/pause/

I guess I'm not calm. This is what he said. He said he remembers it still,  
but not the same way, not so deeply. He used some Vulcan term, something  
about finding 'the edge of the open center'. He said he found a way to make  
it so that the memories didn't own him, so that he didn't have to feel that  
way about Chakotay anymore. How could he just turn it off?

"You didn't seem so upset when it was 'just' turned on," he said. "Once we  
figured out what happened, you were all set to ask Chakotay to marry us. And  
I hadn't even asked you, yet. I was planning to, you know." His voice was  
soft. He was focused and calm. "I was thinking about what you said about  
him, and now I don't think it's a good idea. I don't think I'll be enough  
for you."

I stood in front of him. "What _are_ you talking about?"

He traced his fingers over my forehead, and touched me gently over my left  
eye. "I love you," he said. "So does Chakotay. You love both of us. It's  
a classic triangle. I'm not sure I'm up for it."

"But you love him, too."

"Not the way you do. I don't have to anymore," he answered. "Now I have to  
get some sleep. Good night."

And he just walked out the door.

Today on shift Chakotay looked, well, like Tom looked just after we came out  
of the nebula. I don't think Tom talked to him. I don't even know if I  
should try to talk to him. I wonder if I can get anything more out of Tom  
than inscrutable Vulcanisms.

*

**Personal log, Chakotay:**

I was right to fear the Akoonah. I know I must learn from the Visions, and  
they may take days to come clear. But it's been three days, and nothing is  
any clearer.

I am _far_ from the bones of my ancestors.

No spirit, no animal greeted me. I found myself looking out on the desert  
landscape of the old Four Corners region of North America. I visited it a few  
times while I was in the Academy. It reminded me of home. Sometimes in the  
Vision it's the landscape or the weather that contains the message. So I  
waited.

After some time I heard footsteps behind me. When I turned I saw the image of  
Tom Paris walking toward me out of a curtain of black.

"Fancy meeting you here."

"Hello, Tom," I said.

"Why are _you_ here?" He began circling around me. I kept having to turn my  
head to see him. "What's at the center, Chakotay?"

"I came looking for guidance, for the counsel of my Spirits."

"Am I a spirit? Are you? What is reality, Commander? I've had to think  
about that a lot lately. Why are you here?"

"I told you, I came for guidance."

"Why ask me? You're the one with all the answers."

"I don't have an answer to this."

"What's the question?"

I made myself speak it. Here I had to be honest. "I will never have Kathryn.  
She's made that clear. I will always love B'Elanna. I have come to respect  
you, Tom. I would never try to take her from you, but maybe I could join you.  
A family of three. Maybe it's insane, maybe it's not. It's a long trip home,  
and I'd like to spend it with people I love."

"Second place to Kathryn?"

"It's not like that."

The image of Tom stopped in front of me. His hand reached for my face, but  
hesitated. "Do you love me?"

I took the plunge, if only in my own Vision. "I already love you like  
family, and ever since you came into my office, when you asked if I  
remembered us -- " I faltered. But I had to have the courage to speak the  
truth to myself. "I've wondered what it would be like to be with you."

His eyes were unreadable. His hand came to rest lightly on my face, and his  
fingers slid up into my hair. I could feel his thumb tracing the line of my  
tattoo.

"You mark your lovers when you give that kiss, when you trace this pattern on  
them. You mark them deeply." His look changed to anger, and he shoved my  
head back. "I never asked for that," he growled. "I didn't! I don't want  
to know what you mean to B'Elanna. I've never been your lover!" He was  
shouting. "Oh, I remember you, but *you* have *no* idea what I'm like!"

He began to walk back toward the curtain of black, still yelling. "I didn't  
ask for this! I don't believe you want this! You are *not* at my center!"

I willed myself to be standing in front of him, and in the way of the  
Akoonah, I was there. As I faced him I saw a tattoo in white lines shaped  
like my own. I took the image by his shoulders. "I'm sorry."

"Then take it away," he whispered.

I traced my fingers over the mark, thinking how I had never known him, never  
loved him, how I respected him, but that we had no bond. "I'm sorry," I  
repeated. "I'm sorry."

When I moved my hand away, the lines were gone. A light wash of white  
remained, but that was all. He reached up to touch his face, then smiled  
that wry Paris smile.

"I guess we're even. See you around."

He stepped past me and walked back through the black curtain. Suddenly the  
curtain disappeared, too.

And I was alone in the desert.


	3. Broken Geodes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Faith is an action; it is the act of trust required in order to participate in the unknown."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to raonaid and whitecrow, who beta'ed this chapter and were my first-ever beta readers. They told me what works, and, more importantly, what didn't. And introduced me to the fantastic idea of beta reading. I owe them, especially whitecrow, quite a bit.

**Personal log, Kathryn Janeway:**

We've decided to do some experiments. That deposit of Selenium we found a few  
weeks back brought home how much we're depending on chance to keep Voyager's  
systems going. I've tapped the Doctor's biological knowledge and B'Elanna's  
engineering skills to try to come up with alternate supplements for the  
bioneural gel packs. They've found a few that may work, but we don't know how  
the altered packs will integrate with the other systems.

It seems best that we restrict the trials to gamma shift. I've set up crew  
rosters so that the senior officers' duty shifts are spread out. I put  
myself on gamma with B'Elanna, Tuvok and Paris have beta, and Chakotay and  
Kim are holding down the bridge during alpha. I think this will let everyone  
get a little more experience acting on their own, and I'll get to swing  
between being a scientist on gamma and a captain on alpha or beta.

I'm looking forward to doing something different. I get to indulge myself as  
a scientist, and I'll get to work with different crew members. I'm certainly  
ready for that. These last two weeks have been a strain, and I could stand a  
change of scene.

I heard Tom and B'Elanna broke up, and it was Tuvok told me. A Vulcan with a  
taste for gossip! He swears it's just the mark of a good security officer,  
but I wonder sometimes. He also told me he had a new meditation student, and  
when he said it was Tom Paris you could have knocked me over. But he and  
Tuvok are the only ones of the senior staff acting normally. B'Elanna seems  
to have lost some of her hard-won self control. Chakotay's so controlled I  
think he's turning into granite. Poor Harry Kim is trying to understand why  
his best friends are acting like idiots. No one's failing in their duties,  
but the tension is pretty tiresome.

Come to think of it, I'll be Captain on beta shift. It'll be saner there.

*

**Personal log, Tuvok:**

Mr. Paris has become an apt student, and I find myself anticipating our  
meditation sessions. Since we are now on the same shift, we are also  
frequent dinner companions. Our conversations have been engaging. His skill  
at the helm controls is founded on an ability to understand relational  
vectors, and his talent stretches into a keen eye for interpersonal events.  
He has a firm, if unorthodox, grasp of certain forms of logic.

His knowledge of crew interactions off duty is extensive. He has increased my  
store of such information, and speculates quite accurately at how such events  
will develop. Of course, like most humans, he is less clear-viewed when it  
comes to himself.

We have never discussed his severed relationship with Lt. Torres. I would  
not presume to ask him, but I do wonder whether it had anything to do with  
our first meditation session. The first encounter with the open center can  
be unsettling, and I did not expect Mr. Paris to return for further study.

I am gratified that he has, and he has shown an interest beyond the Keethara  
He seems to understand the purpose of the Kolinahr, the deepest of Vulcan  
disciplines. He has given me a metaphor that I find most useful. There is a  
strong influence in San Francisco of Earth's Oriental cultures, and Mr. Paris  
has compared the Vulcan system to the Zen schools which still exist on Earth.  
"It's like a Zen rock garden," he said. "For most Vulcans, the open center  
is like the sand on the desert. With regular Zen teachings, you learn to  
understand and accept it, to know that it's there, and maybe learn not to be  
controlled by it. With deep Zen, or the Kolinahr, you control it. You make  
the wild desert into a construction of beauty and order, raked into patterns  
by discipline and will."

I asked him about humans. Ever since his first meditation, he has seen the  
sea that humans usually find at the open center. Again, his answer was in  
metaphor. "The only way most humans can have that kind of control is to  
freeze the water." He spoke with a controlled sorrow, which I found echoed in  
myself.

Perhaps, in the sixty years of our journey home, I will learn to wield the  
rake.

*

**Personal log, Harry Kim:**

I am so bored. I haven't made a personal log in two weeks, because there's  
been nothing to say. But Starfleet *likes* you to make personal logs, and  
the auto-reminder went off this morning. I will record, for dubious  
posterity, the events of the last two weeks.

Nada. M'braan. Rien. Alpit. Pick a language -- same word. Nothing.

I get on the bridge in the morning, look over the diagnostics from the  
gelpack experiments to see if I can catch anything B'Elanna and the captain  
missed. Then, for six more hours, I stare at the back of Chakotay's head.  
It's so true that the commanding officer sets the tone, and Chakotay's been  
in a minor key for so long, it's enough to make me want to play Dixieland on  
the bridge, just to lighten the mood. Give me something to do, anyway.

Truth be told, I'm lonely, too. With all this shift-changing, I hardly see  
Tom and B'Elanna anymore. I guess I can't say Tom *and* B'Elanna anymore. I  
miss them. Sometimes B'Elanna works half of alpha, and we'll see each other  
at lunch, but all she'll talk about is work. I did try once to ask her what  
happened. I mean, _no one_ on the ship has a clue. All she says is to ask  
Tom.

Like _he's_ been available. I say hello when he comes on shift, and he says  
hello, then I go eat dinner, and that's it. I'm so lonely, I've even tried to  
talk to Chakotay. That's like talking to a rock.

For entertainment I've been collecting rumors. Let me catalog them. One:  
B'Elanna finally saw through Tom and dumped him. Two: Tom finally got tired  
of B'Elanna's temper and dumped her. Three: Being on opposing shifts, there  
wasn't enough time for sex for A, B'Elanna, or B, Tom. Four: Affairs.  
Subcategory A: Tom had an affair with one of the Delaneys. B: Tom had an  
affair with Chakotay (oooh, yeah, riiight). C: B'Elanna had an affair with  
Chakotay. D, and my personal favorite for sheer absurdity: Tom's having an  
affair with Tuvok.

I heard the captain taught Seven of Nine to play Velocity, so I've asked her  
to teach me. She wins through a combination of superior reflexes and  
distracting, uh, moves. It's an exercise in ego-bruising, but I think she  
enjoys beating me. Might as well make someone happy.

Anything to liven things up.

*

**Personal log, B'Elanna Torres:**

I am so glad we're alive, even if I don't really understand what just  
happened.

The alert sounded midway through alpha shift. The captain and I were running  
a few tests on the gel packs with the new supplements. They've passed all  
the simulations, so we installed them in a few systems. They did fine in the  
airponics bay and in a test replicator, so we started installing them in  
Engineering. Stupid, in hindsight.

We put them in the secondary relays between the bridge and the maneuvering  
thrusters. We were just about to run a diagnostic on them when the alarm went  
off, and the panel blew up. Kathryn was right in front of it. They say she's  
okay now, but she was knocked out and badly burned.

The next thing was Chakotay's voice calling for battle stations. I could  
feel we were taking a pounding on the shields. No other systems blew, but I  
could tell from the sounds that the engines weren't being used. I guess the  
secondaries took out the primary thruster controls with them when they blew.  
I was looking for ways to re-route helm control even before Chakotay told me  
it was off line. Turned out they also took out phaser targeting. Stupid  
design.

I told Chakotay that the captain was injured, that the systems were blown. I  
was still trying to re-route things when I heard Tom's voice on the  
comm."B'Elanna, do you have thruster control in Engineering?" We did. "Then  
let me call controls to you. We can start some evasive actions and buy a  
little time."

I went to the control panel. It's mostly used for diagnostics, but you can  
run the maneuvering jets and impulse engines from there. The weird thing,  
looking back, was that I just stepped over Captain Janeway to get there.  
When my fingers touched the surface, I brought up the bridge helm interface  
without really intending to. Tom's voice was issuing commands, like "Port 15  
degrees, pitch +20," but I knew what he wanted, my fingers were moving,  
before anything was said.

Somehow I knew that we had four unidentified opponents, each about half the  
size of Voyager. They had arrived cloaked, and had some new energy weapon.  
The first shot penetrated the shields, and something about it must have  
affected the interface between the modified gelpacks and the original ones.  
Harry had their weapon analyzed and got the shields modified before the  
second shot hit.

Somehow I knew Tuvok was on the bridge, too, and that he was planning to aim  
the phasers by aiming the whole ship. I knew all the damage and shipwide  
reports, because I knew what was on Chakotay's command screen. And they all  
knew what was happening in Engineering. I could hear my voice barking  
orders. At least I remembered to emergency transport the captain to Sick  
Bay.

I could feel them all: Tom rapidly anticipating vectors like a dance; Tuvok  
constantly re-evaluating tactics; Chakotay calmly keeping track of  
everything. I could feel them all: Tom's joy in maneuvering, Tuvok's  
contained enjoyment of the challenge, Chakotay's frustration that the  
attackers wouldn't answer our hails. I could feel us all.

We were *good*.

I don't know how long it lasted, but we destroyed two of their ships and  
crippled a third before they answered our hail. This still kills me. I can't  
imagine what the Engineering crew thought. We all four spoke to answer:

_"We are the Federation Starship Voyager."_

We.

I guess I lost it. It scared the hell out of me. All I remember is  
screaming.

They say I bashed my head against a bulkhead.

Next thing I knew was waking up in Sick Bay with a headache the size of a  
dwarf nova. Tom, Chakotay, and Tuvok were all standing around the biobed. I  
must have flinched or something, because Tuvok stepped back, and Tom and  
Chakotay both reached out to me.

"It's okay, B'Elanna." "The link is broken." I don't even know who said  
what.

I asked about the captain, and they said she was back on the bridge.

Then I asked what happened, like I didn't know.

Chakotay looked at Tom, then they both glanced at Tuvok. No one said anything  
until the Doctor coughed.

"It seems that Mr. Paris' telepathic link with you in the nebula last month  
was not an isolated incident. Both Commander Chakotay and Lieutenant Tuvok  
have had incidents suggesting a link with Mr. Paris, but at each time under  
circumstances which did not arouse much suspicion. It seems that in certain  
mental states, Mr. Paris is a functioning telepath."

I looked at Tom. He looked sheepish.

"Is this going to happen again? I don't think I can take it."

The Doctor answered. "I believe that with a few experiments we can find out  
why this has occurred. Until then, it's possible, but unlikely, as long as nobody meditates."

That's pretty much it. Chakotay took me back to my quarters. I think he  
wanted to stay and talk, but I needed to be alone.

We were so *good*. It felt amazing. But when we spoke together like that, it  
was too . . . too Borg.

*

**Personal log, Kathryn Janeway:**

I am so proud of Harry Kim. He watched his three senior officers speak in  
unison, then scream and collapse, and still had the presence to step in.  
When B'Elanna panicked, she pulled the rest of them with her. Chakotay told  
me they could feel her head hitting the bulkhead, and that none of them could  
react, that her terror consumed them all. Harry managed to get a medical  
team moving, and then negotiated with the Cornizi for passage through their  
system as if he could start up the attack again. They have remarkable cloak  
technology, but their shields and weapons are no match for ours. We tried to  
bargain for it, but after that fight they were content just to let us pass  
by.

I've seen the Doctor's report about what happened. It's remarkable, really.  
Tuvok and the Doctor were able to figure out that when Tom is in a certain  
brain state he can be telepathic. He has to have the brain waves of his two  
hemispheres of his brain oscillating in synchrony, something that occurs  
during meditation in some people, often during stasis, and for him, while  
flying. Hemi-synch, he calls it.

Up until the fight with the Cornizi he could only link with people in similar  
mental states -- B'Elanna in the stasis chambers, Tuvok in meditation, and  
Chakotay when he was using the Akoonah. In the first two cases, Tom was  
simply receiving B'Elanna's dreams and Tuvok's experience in meditating. It  
went undetected. With Chakotay, they both thought it was part of their own  
internal experience.

When the Cornizi attacked, Tom and Tuvok were together for a morning  
meditation. They made it to the bridge in minutes. The Doctor thinks that if  
they hadn't already been in hemi-synch already, the link wouldn't have  
formed. As it was, we're hypothesizing that Tuvok's trained telepathy and  
Tom's wild ability combined. The link formed with people Tom had already  
connected with before.

The Doctor thinks he can isolate and remove this ability for Tom. It's his  
choice, though I'd rather he go through with it. My senior officers turning  
into a Collective is not a thought I relish.

Tuvok came to see me this afternoon. I was expecting to be oh-so-politely  
dressed-down for not telling him about Tom and B'Elanna last month, the  
security implications of a wild telepath and all that. Instead I found  
myself playing counsellor. Oh, he made his protests about security issues,  
but that wasn't why he was there.

He is so alone. He may not be the only Vulcan on the ship, but Ensign Vorik  
isn't exactly his favorite person. He's so much younger and doesn't  
understand the logic of a Vulcan in security, not that many other Vulcans  
understand it, either. Vorik's a little narrow-minded, a little less  
disciplined. No fun.

I hadn't realized how much Tuvok misses Kes. We all do, but she was special  
to him. I may be the only other person who knows him as well as she did. It  
took me years to get this close -- years and one very intense mind-meld. I  
think I know him well enough to know what's bothering him.

He never brought it up, but it's Tom. He's afraid that their growing  
friendship was only a product of Tom's telepathy. And I think the link  
yesterday made him miss his family, his bond-mate, all the more.

Tuvok said it wasn't as intense as a mind-meld, but the sense of sharing was  
\-- how did he put it? -- less uncomfortable than he would have imagined, at  
least up to the point where B'Elanna panicked. I got the feeling that he was  
concerned that they would all back off from him, that they'd be afraid they  
had violated his privacy. I don't think he really minded it at all.

My poor friend. I can only give him what he will accept, and he will only  
accept respect and a certain affection in my voice. I wish he would take  
more, take the hand I've offered him.

As for Tom, B'Elanna, and Chakotay, I don't know what to do for them.  
They're off duty while we're in Cornizi space for the next couple of days. I  
don't know whether it will be better to keep them apart, or put them in a  
room together and lock the door.

*

**Personal log, Tom Paris:**

I really don't know what's wierder, having B'Elanna's dreams of Chakotay in  
my head, knowing I walked into Chakotay's vision, or knowing that Tuvok  
*likes* his job. If he let his face move he'd be grinning like a Klingon  
during a fight.

They all feel the same way I do. Flying, to me, is like winning a fight to  
Tuvok; like weaving all the strings of command to Chakotay; like solving an  
engineering problem to B'Elanna. . .

Oh, B'Elanna! I am such an idiot. I was so scared of not measuring up yet  
again, I just let myself pretend that I 'understood my center and could  
control my surface'. That's a laugh. I thought I was freeing her up for  
Chakotay. I wanted him to be happy, too, but I didn't think my heart was big  
enough. Not like hers, not like his. They have hearts like mountains, like  
oceans. Mine is small and afraid.

Afraid and angry.

Not angry like B'Elanna gets mad, but angry all the time. It wasn't until I  
felt the others in the link that I knew there was another way to be. I  
hope they couldn't feel me the same way.

Ah, the door chime.

* 

**Personal log, Chakotay:**

I don't know how I ended up at his door. Perhaps the spirits guided my  
steps. I couldn't sleep, so I went walking and found myself outside his  
quarters. Oh, maybe I meant to go there, truth be told, and the truth has to  
be told. He was still on beta shift time, and he was still awake.

The door slid open, and I heard him call, "Come in , Chakotay."

"How did you know?"

"Don't get spooked. It was just a good guess," he answered. "What can I do  
for you?"

"Talk," I told him. "I've been ordered not to use the Akoonah for a while. I  
hear you've been ordered not to meditate."

"Yeah. I guess I'm dangerous." He laughed a little.

I laughed, too. "I knew that years ago."

We looked at each other for a few minutes.

"I didn't know it was really you."

"Me neither."

"What did you mean by, 'We're even'?"

"I don't own your life anymore. You don't owe me anything."

"I owe you a lot, Tom."

We sat a few moments more. I was comfortable and nervous both. Tom's more  
of a skittish horse than even B'Elanna. I think if they hadn't almost died  
together, neither of them would have had the nerve to speak. I was  
determined not to be as foolish.

"Tom?"

"Yeah."

"What do you want, now?"

He looked up at me sharply. "What do you mean?"

I actually didn't know how to say it, so I got up and walked over to where he  
sat and held out my hand. "Let's go see B'Elanna."

He looked at my hand, then up at my face. He reached out and let me help him  
up. We walked out of his quarters together and down the corridor. It wasn't  
until a passing crew member gave us a startled look that we realized we were  
still holding hands. We didn't let go. In fact, he held me tighter.

We walked the short way to Be'anna's door. She didn't answer. Tom called to  
her, and her voice came, muffled by the door. "Go away, flyboy. I don't want  
to talk to you."

I told her I was there, too."

"Great. Come to break it to me? Fine, you're a couple. Congratulations.  
Now go away!"

"It's not like that, B'Elanna. Let us in."

She wouldn't. Tom rolled his eyes in the direction of the security panel,  
and I used my command override. Tuvok's going to have to ask me about it  
when it shows up on his report, but I think he'll know why.

We walked in. She was still in uniform, and I don't think she'd slept. We  
walked right up to her, and folded our arms around her, around each other. We  
held each other for a few moments, just breathing each other's scents, feeling  
arms and strong hands. And then I realized the woman we held was shaking.

Spirits, I thought, B'Elanna Torres is crying.

She cried for about five minutes more, her head on my chest, Tom wrapped  
around behind her. She pulled herself together and began apologizing. "I  
thought, after what happened. . . I could tell how you felt about each  
other.

"Couldn't you feel how we felt about you?" I whispered into her hair.

"I guess so. I don't know. I just panicked when it felt like we were *one*  
person." She shuddered, then went on, "After what happened I thought that I  
wanted to be alone, but when you both came here for me - " She paused and  
collected herself again. "I didn't know that being alone scared me more than  
the link.

"But the link was amazing."  
"Tom," she said, pulling out of our arms, "it scared the *hell* out of me,"  
she said. "But yeah. It was incredible."

"I guess you understand Seven of Nine a little better, now," I said.

"Turn it off, Counselor," she growled. Then she sighed, "Yeah, I do, but I  
can't do that again."

We all sat down, B'Elanna and I on opposite ends of the couch, Tom sprawled on  
the floor.

"Tom, are you going to let the Doctor fix your head?" B'Elanna asked.

"The captain wants me to, so does Tuvok. Do you?"

"Um, yes. Please. I don't think I'll be comfortable with you otherwise."

"Worried I'll find out what you fantasize about when we make love?" I rolled  
my eyes. Tom was still Tom.

"Oh, yes, _that_. What are we?" B'Elanna asked. "Are we a troika, a trio?"

"I think it's called _menage a trios_ ," Tom volunteered, "and it would be  
better if we were linked." B'Elanna threw a pillow at him. "Okay, okay.  
Whatever you want to call it, I'm in."

"Me, too," I said.

B'Elanna looked at both of us, and gave a short laugh. "As much as I want to  
take you boys to bed, I don't think we should do that, yet."

"Especially not until the Doctor removes your telepathy, Tom," I said. "If  
we linked up like that, and then dragged Tuvok into it . . . " Tom groaned  
and covered his face.

"Well, at the least it wouldn't be fair to him," B'Elanna said, finishing my  
thought. "It's bad enough he had to deal with a hysterical half-Klingon when  
we linked before. We do need to talk with him, but right now, let's talk  
about us."

So we talked. I think my life just got a little more beautiful, a little more  
brilliant, and a lot more difficult.

*

**Personal log, Tom Paris:**

We're going to *date*. It's kind of funny, really. It feels like we're  
teenagers. I thought we'd all just dive into it, like B'Elanna and I did at  
first. She said, "No way." It wasn't just because of the link, even. It's  
really because of what happened before. She nailed me. She knew what  
happened before, why I walked out on her, why I hide behind my stupid  
innuendo. She knew how angry and scared I was, even before the link.

She wants us to just be together. Dinner, hiking, whatever, but no sex yet.  
And she wants Chakotay and me to do things both without her, and alone with  
her. "If we start getting jealous of each other, it'll never work," she said.  
She's right. We have to all want this and be willing to work at it. I feel  
like I just made a major adult decision. Spooky, huh?.

When we left, Chakotay held out his hands to us. B'Elanna and I took them,  
then held each other's hands. He brought our hands up to his face, and  
kissed them. We all did the same, around our little circle. It's going to be  
hard, but I bet it's going to be good.

Then she kicked us out. On my way back to my quarters I stopped by to see  
Tuvok. He seemed surprised to see me, but pleased, in that impenetrable way  
of his. I asked him if he'd help the Doctor with my surgery tomorrow. I  
guess I'm afraid it'll mess with my ability to fly, and since he's a real  
telepath, I thought maybe he'd be able to tell when whatever the Doctor does  
is enough. He said he'd try.

I'd like to keep learning how to meditate with him, see if I really can do  
it, or if I was just picking it all up from him. I didn't know how he'd feel  
about that, since I'm probably not going to be an easy student any more. It  
was the funniest thing, though. When I asked him, the permanent crease  
between his eyebrows relaxed, just a little bit.

"I am willing, if you are up to the challenge."

This is all going to be very interesting.

*

**Personal log, Kathryn Janeway:**

I stopped in at Sandrine's in the holodeck tonight. Tuvok, that reliable if sometimes  
reluctant source of gossip, hinted that it would be a good idea for me to  
make an appearance. I couldn't guess why until I'd been there a short while,  
and Tom, Chakotay, and B'Elanna took over the pool table.

They played a game of Cut-throat, and every eye in the place was watching.  
This was their first public appearance, so to speak, and their crewmates  
seemed quite interested. Rumor had been running wild, and this was the first  
confirmation that they were indeed involved. At the end of the game I walked  
over and asked to join them in doubles, giving the Command stamp of approval.  
I hope I also sent a clear message that I have no claim on Chakotay. Since  
half the ship expected us to pair off together, I don't want any 'jealous  
Captain' talk to bother them.

It was such a relief to seem them so easy together. In the few weeks since  
they linked with Tuvok they've been slowly relaxing, and life on the bridge  
has been much more pleasant. Chakotay asked whether I minded if he shuffled  
the crew assignments so that they could have at least one day off together.  
I guess that was his way of saying he'd finally dropped his torch for me.

At the beginning of all this, when Tom told me he'd had an affair with  
Chakotay, I was surprised. At first I couldn't imagine it, but on reflection  
I could see the two of them together. I was actually more surprised later to  
learn that it hadn't happened.

Perceptions are such slippery things. Something that would never have  
occurred to me, once suggested, colored my view of Tom and Chakotay forever.  
I guess it did the same thing to them, really. Would these three have . . .  
whatever it is they seem to be building, if Tom hadn't said something to  
Chakotay, gotten him to imagine they might have been lovers?

All I could think of tonight was how something that would have once been so  
implausible now seemed so right.

*

**Author's Note:**

> This was the first fanfiction I ever wrote.


End file.
